


Magpie

by Alathe



Series: The Bard and His Boys [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Edging, Lambert Has an Oral Fixation, M/M, Prolonged Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alathe/pseuds/Alathe
Summary: During an extended sexual encounter with Lambert, Jaskier asks why the witcher calls him magpie.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: The Bard and His Boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769698
Comments: 12
Kudos: 227





	Magpie

**Author's Note:**

> Just a smutty drabble to explain why Lambert calls Jaskier magpie.

Lambert was curled around Jaskier's back, cock sunk to the hilt in the bard, nose pressed to the soft skin of his neck where the hair stopped growing. He breathed the scent in deep before running his tongue firmly up the bit of spine he could reach without moving, and felt Jaskier's shudder trickle down his spine, culminating in a squeeze around his prick. He loved days like this, where he could spend as long as he wanted tormenting the bard, and himself too. Keeping them both locked in the sweet torment of arousal without release.

"Lambert?"

Jaskier's shoulders were covered with rounded bruises and red marks. Some of them clearly showed the shape of his teeth. He traced one of the marks with his tongue. His sharp teeth had gotten him slapped by more than one whore. Kicked out permanently from at least one brothel. But some of them liked it, enough to give him more than one round. No one in Kaer Morhen minded his use of teeth, and Jaskier loved it. Lambert rubbed his face across those bruised shoulders, feeling the welts he had left against his cheek.

"Hmm?" He placed another bite on the bard's shoulder, enjoying the gasp that came from the beautiful brunette.

"Why do you call me magpie?"

Lambert chuckled and tightened his grip on Jaskier's waist, somehow pulling him closer, relishing in the sweet sigh that dropped from musical lips.

"Why do you think you're not like a magpie?" He gave a half-thrust of his hips, just enough to remind them both that they were locked together.

"Ah ... because they're noisy, and monochrome, and scavengers. Oh, Lambert, you're killing me, I swear. Oooh!" That last part had to be related to the bites the witcher was currently layering on top of existing bite marks decorating alabaster shoulders. He continued biting, punctuating his points as he answered.

"Yes. They're loud. Like you. Beautiful. Flamboyant. Graceful." The series of noises he wrung from the bard with those bites were affecting him too. He put his mouth closer to Jaskier's ear, whispering to him now. Sliding his hips in small thrusts, one large hand pinning his magpie to the bed without mercy.

"They value things differently. Collect shiny things. Things the other birds don't want. Just like you."

Jaskier trembled in his grasp, and the witcher could smell his slightly agonized arousal, yes; but also tears, with a strange mix of sorrow and joy. He knew that scent, it happened when the bard thought too much about how his witchers didn't get enough happiness, the suffering they endured, the understanding that they knew he cared. Lambert knew he had made himself heard, Jaskier understood.

"You salvaged us, magpie." His thrusts were more urgent now, still somehow gentle, but after such a long teasing session, they wouldn't need frantic pounding to get where they needed to go.

"Tucked us into your nest of love, and gave us joy." His hand slipped to the bard's cock, where it lay heavy, full and aching. He began to stroke in time to his own movements.

"That's why you're my magpie." He whispered as he sank his teeth firmly into the tender skin below him, and felt the shock of it move like electricity through Jaskier's body. His thrusts sped up again, as the bard's spend landed on the sheets and his own hand. The convulsing muscles milked him and with a long, low groan, he filled his magpie with cream.

They lay together silently, recovering from their orgasms, until Jaskier rolled over and put his hand gently on the witcher's face.

"I thought Eskel was supposed to be the poetic one." He chuckled.

"Surprise." Replied Lambert sleepily, his cocky smirk settling on his face.


End file.
